Wednesday, August 22, 2012

I've been making our bed every morning lately. If you know me, and know my thoughts on this, you know this is shocking.

I don't make beds, I think it's stupid. You're going to sleep in the bed again later on that day, why are you making it?! But as of late, I've been making it regularly.

Like, I literally just made it before I sat down to write this.

I don't know what started this "trend". I don't know why it's sort of important to me now to make our bed but I'm doing it and I feel good about it.

I get to the end of my day and before the husband and I are about to get into bed I can say, "Well, I may not have done the laundry or sorted all of the baby clothes or gone food shopping or made it to the gym or, you know, anything else, but I did make the bed....so that's something."

And it really is something.

I feel like some days the sense of accomplishment and pride and something else that I just can't describe, is enough. It's just making the bed but knowing that it got done and it makes our bedroom look like it's semi-put together and neat makes me feel better about everything else. The day may have been insane....as today is shaping up to be....but at least the bed got made.

There's a part of me that really wants to delve deeper into why making the bed is so important to me all of a sudden but the other part of me, the part that thinks this importance is a sign of something not so right with me right now, won't let me. So I don't.

And I just take pleasure in the fact that while my dishes may not be done and my kids may not be bathed and our playroom may look like disaster central, my bed is made and that's enough for me....today.